| Me, I’m the Lonesome Kicker
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| Extra points, field goals at your service
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| One might think it comes with glory
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| You might think different after you listen to my story
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| My helmet is equipped with a tiny face mask
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| What it possibly could protect, I do not know
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| The other guys on the team
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| Like to make fun of my little shoulder pads
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| And also like to hide the special shoe
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| I need to kick in the snow
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| People think it’s so easy
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| To kick a field goal from the 30 yard line
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| They forget to add seven yards for the snap
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| And 10 more 'cause the goal posts are pushed way back
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| In 1974, the uprights were right on the goal line
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| But some of the players were running into them
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| And getting hurt
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| So screw the kicker
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| Who cares about the kicker?
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| But I kick that ball
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| And I pray it goes straight
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| If it does
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| The coach says Good job, number 8
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| He doesn’t even know my name is Andre Kristacovitchlalinski, Jr.
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| But that’s the life I live
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| The Lonesome Kicker
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| Kickoffs can be so very scary
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| Especially, if the returner breaks on through
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| And I’m the only guy on the playing field left to tackle him
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| I don’t want to get hurt
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| So I pretend to tie my shoe
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| Once again, I’m ignored by my teammates and all my coaches
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| Go back where you came from!
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| Scream 70,000 fans
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| Well, I know I could win their love back
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| By catching a winning touch-down
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| But, unfortunately, I was born with these very small hands
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| And I hope that the cameras don’t come in too close
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| 'Cause they might see the tears in my eyes
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| As I sit on this bench made of cold-hearted wood
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| And the splinters go deep in my thighs
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| And the towel boy snickers as he walks by The Lonesome Kicker
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| Another blocked kick
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| And everybody blames me But it was the Left Guard
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| Who didn’t pick up his man
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| Oh, why can’t they see…
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| In my home country
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| I could have been a minor league soccer player
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| But I came to America
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| Seeking fortune and seeking fame
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| I didn’t realize that if I shanked one
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| And blew the point spread
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| Some drunk guys would push me into their hibachi
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| After the game
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| So I go home at night
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| 'Cause I never get invited
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| To go drinking with the other guys
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| And I sit in my chair, and I soak my foot
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| As I eat a plate of cold french fries
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| And my wife’s out with her quote-unquote friend
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| And my son can’t look me in the eyes
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| But that’s the life I live
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| The Lonesome Kicker
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| Kicking for you
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| They took my snow shoe
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| They’re going for two |